New Beginnings
by Lucreace
Summary: After his capture at the Battle of Hogwarts, Rod was facing a lifetime in Azkaban. When he is hauled out of his cell and given an offer, he knows it would be foolish to refuse.
1. Chapter 1

Well, it was freedom of sorts.

It had all gone a bit 'tits up' at the Battle of Hogwarts. When it became apparent that they were losing, a lot of people fled. He wasn't one of them. More fool him! Perhaps it would have been better if he'd been killed like his wife. The prospect of spending the next fourteen years locked in Azkaban was bleak and as he was dragged (literally) away from the remnants of the school, it was looking more and more likely.

So it was he found himself thrown into a cell to be forgotten about all over again, or so he thought. He wasn't sure whether it had been a week, a month or year when his cell door was opened and he was dragged back into the world of the living. Before he really knew what was going on, he was forced into a chair and told to listen. Opposite him was a burly looking man whom he thought he recognised from the Ministry. Interesting… he sat up then, wondering what this was all about.

Without saying anything, a piece of parchment with a rather long list of names on it was shoved under his nose. He recognised them all; his was on it for a start. All of them were Death Eaters. Some of them were crossed off, the known dead he assumed. He flicked blue eyes from the paper to the man opposite him and shrugged, "What?" he asked.

"Where are these people?" The voice was gruff, burly and stank of mudblood.

"I've been in prison for the past month, I have no idea."

"It's been three days…"

Three days… shit, felt like longer. Time didn't really have any meaning in this place. Rod ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "What's in it for me?" he asked. There was no point telling them what they wanted to know if all they were going to do was throw him back in there for the dementors to devour. He only had one card and he was going to try to play that for all it was worth!

"We thought you might say that, we've spent the last three days trying to come up with something that is acceptable for everyone involved. Believe me, most people would rather see you dead than this but we can't have that," the burly one said. An envelope was slid across the table. Rod eyed it for a moment before picking it up and tugging it open. Inside was another piece of parchment. When he read it, he sank back into the chair. It was too good to be true surely they weren't going to run with something like this.

"Is this real?" he said. He wouldn't put it passed them to make shit up and then deny it afterwards.

"Yes."

"Explain it then," he said, wanting to hear more before agreeing to anything.

"You'll start off under house arrest in your Manor. A bracelet will be fitted to your left wrist which will monitor both your whereabouts and magical casting. If you use magic to harm another creature, we will know. If you try to leave your house, we will know. If the place is visited by others, we will know. Your house will be warded allowing only certain visitors. Your mail will be monitored too." They really weren't going to take any chances with this, he couldn't blame them. It sounded like a lot of rules. The alternative was far, far worse.

"I want the device fitting before I say anything," he said.

"We thought you'd say that." Burly said. He made a quick gesture with his hand and a small fellow stepped forward. He fitted what appeared to be an inane metal bangle to his left wrist. Tight enough to stay on but not too tight to be painful; there was no way he'd be able to remove it.

No more dementors; no more eating grey gruel, no more sleeping on a cold stone floor. The ability to have happy thoughts and not have them stolen… He looked at the list before him and nodded, "What do you want to know."

Seven hours later, he was being deposited at the house by a tall woman. They'd said they would be back in the morning for more information; he'd just nodded, knowing that he was well and truly in their pocket now. With the Dark Lord gone, he supposed it was time to adapt and change, fit into the new world rather than perish with the old. If there was one thing he was good at, it was self-preservation!


	2. Chapter 2

The first night, he didn't care. The first night, he just headed up to the master bedroom, pulled back the curtains on the four poster bed, fell into it and slept. It didn't matter that the curtains were ancient or crumbling; didn't matter that the place he slept had a sheen of dust covering it that would make a less exhausted person sneeze. All that mattered was it wasn't a stone floor, nor was it a cell, nor did it have dementors lurking just outside the door waiting to prey on his thoughts. The first night, he didn't even dream.

The following morning however, was another tale entirely. Wane sunlight filtered through the broken curtains, straight onto his closed eyes. A soft groan and he rolled over, sending a plume of dust into the air. Inhaling most of it, he sat up with a start coughing furiously. That was when he took his first real look around at the place. It was a disaster. Running a hand over his face, Rod slowly got up from the dusty bed and stood up. Last time he had been here, it had been richly furnished, or so he remembered. Heading over to the armoire, he opened it up and let out a sigh of relief, the clothes he had here seemed to have survived at least.

Although he knew he needed to shower, he threw them on anyway. If the bathroom was in as sorry state as this place, it would need a damned fine clean before he used it. At least running water wouldn't be an issue. Letting out a sigh, he left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. There would be nothing to eat there, the Ministry was sending someone around with food later on; he just needed to see what sort of state it was in. What he saw disgusted him. The elf would have left many, many years before and by the looks of it, hadn't bothered to clean up. Pathetic creature! The result was a sort of dank smell that permeated the air.

Great. Not only was he hungry, he also needed to get the place cleaned up before the food arrived. This room was in no fit state to store fresh food in, even he could see that. Problem was, he had no idea how to get the place cleaned up. His knowledge of cleaning spells was sparse at best… Sighing,, he turned on his heal and headed to the library. Throwing up a quick prayer to Merlin, he really hoped this room had held up better than the others. The library, though not nearly as impressive as his brother-in-law's (was that former brother in law now his wife was dead?), had been his pride and joy for as long as he had owned the house. Rab had teased him about his love of books in the past; however it was something he refused to give up on. It had been a refuge when Bel had been in her darker moods too.

When he reached the door, he was a little hesitant. Holding out a hand, he pushed the door open and cringed. No, the room hadn't fared any better than the rest of the house. The smell of mildew and damp hit him; the amount of ruined books in the place must be hundreds. Somehow, one of the windows had smashed and the damp had got in, it had spread from there. Pulling out his wand, he mumbled a quick repair spell at the smashed glass. That would prevent any further damage, he hoped. Scrubbing his hand over his face again, he crossed to where he might find a book on simple cleaning charms. He knew he would have to learn, they'd not allow him to have another elf under the same roof as him, he had been told as much yesterday. The floor creaking alarmingly as he strode to the other side of the room, but held it held up. Good. Last thing he needed was to fall through the floor.

A quick scan of the titles and he found the book he was looking for. Without thought, he pulled it from its place and turned around. The shelf collapsed. The noise was enough to startle what might have been a pigeon from its roost and he sighed. Now was not the time to deal with such a thing. For now, he had to get the kitchen sorted out for when the food arrived. He left what had once been his favourite place and returned to the other mess, book in hand, determination on his pale face.


	3. Chapter 3

An hour later, he was still trying to master the spell. It turned out that cleaning spells were rather far from his area of expertise. The job had to be done however and there was no way he was reverting to using a bucket and sponge – the bucket had a hole in it and the sponge had disintegrated when he touched it. No, this was something he had to master if he wanted to get the place going again. There was going to be a whole lot of cleaning in the not so distant future.

Letting out a sigh, he ran a hand over his face and looked again at the instructions. He sure hoped it wasn't the bracelet getting in the way of casting; he was being monitored on what spells he cast. There had been a list of forbidden spells – all of them based around attacking other people. There would be no more fun with full body binds and the like; however there had been some others that he was able to use – functional ones being at the top. He just had to get his head around how they worked.

He flicked his wand as per the instructions and uttered the word, "Scurgio." He didn't really expect all that much to happen and at first, it didn't. Tempted to throw the book out the window, he didn't notice the sink filling with soap. It was only when he looked up that he realised that it had worked. He smiled. Perhaps things might work out after all. Leaning back against the wall, he watched as the surfaces cleaned themselves. What an amazing little spell that was. He was sure it was going to get him through some of the surface cleaning in the rest of the house.

Problem was, now he needed the food to arrive so he could actually eat some of it. He knew there was nothing to eat in the house, and he had no idea whether any form of tea, or coffee for that matter, would be useable. Probably not after the time he had been away. His stomach growled, letting him know that it was also aware of this situation. There wasn't much he could do about that right now however and there was still the rest of the house to get cleaned up. He'd dared not look at all of it, some of it was going to be in a less than admirable state.

The downstairs bathroom was the next place he'd sort out. If the kitchen and bathroom were functional, then the rest he could deal with in time. Opening the door, he realised the bathroom was every bit as disgusting as the kitchen. The window in here had been smashed and the smell of damp, and was that rot, filled the air. Hopefully, that wouldn't be as bad as it seemed. He had no real idea how to get rid of it, only that it was bad. He recalled hearing Lucius speak of a house that needed the entire floor replacing because of it.

First thing was first though, he repaired the window. The glass was in a pretty bad state and he knew it would need replacing fairly soon, however it would do for now. He then cast the cleaning spell he had used earlier, setting the place to scrubbing itself. This time, he did not stop to watch the event; there were far too many other rooms that needed attention. The bedroom for one thing… he did not want to sleep on dust all over again. Climbing the rickety stairs, he realised that most of the paint was peeling too. Some of it had fallen from the walls and collected in piles on the floor. Fourteen years had been a long time without repairs it seemed.

That was when he heard it. Pausing on the stairs, he pulled his wand from his sleeve and slowly placed the book on the floor. He might not be able to cast much but he was damned if he was going to go down there unarmed. Brushing stray strands of lank brown hair from his eyes, he crept back down the stairs. What if it was someone who had come to finish the job? Merlin knew nearly the whole world wanted to be rid of him. It would hardly come as a surprise if there was someone waiting down there to kill him. He was convinced he could hear someone down there. Slowly, he eased off the stairs and crept into the kitchen. What he found there was not nearly so alarming as he had thought, it was far, far worse than he expected.


	4. Chapter 4

Standing in the kitchen, ensuring that his food was being packed away into the cupboards was Granger. Why? Why would the Ministry send this woman to him? This woman whom he had watched be tortured by his late wife, who was sure to want him dead. Why had she even come here? He flattened himself against the wall so she couldn't see him. Damn it! He couldn't stay there against the wall and yet, he didn't want to face her either. Perhaps he could just go off back upstairs and wait for her to leave… Yes Rod, very brave of you… Rolling his eyes, he took a breath and walked into the kitchen, he was thirsty after all.

"Is there tea?" he asked. He was forced to admit that when she didn't jump, he was a little disappointed. She didn't respond verbally, just pointed at one of the cupboards. Heading over, he opened it and pulled out a tea bag. Now, there was a knack to this, he had been told about it a couple of times in the past but had never made one himself. Boiling water! He had to dip the teabag into boiling water and wait for a while. Filling the cup, he then cast the spell to boil the water before throwing the bag into it.

Deciding that milk was an option he could live without, he watched the teabag as though it had done something to personally offend him, anything to avoid looking at Granger. "I had no choice," she said. "I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here."

Great, now he had to talk to her…

"Are you sure you didn't come here to poke fun at the crippled Death Eater?" he said, not looking up from what he was doing.

"You're hardly crippled," she replied, her tone as icy as before. "Not half as crippled as you left some during the war." She added. He raised an eyebrow but remained silent, sensing there was more come. "It's not fair! How come you get to be out here, making a pain of yourself when the family members of those you killed get no say? They have to live with it every day, the loss of their loved ones and here you are, sitting in your Manor without a care in the world!"

Rod just rolled his eyes at this tirade, the Manor was hardly in a fit state to live in and he was hardly free. "I can hardly go out and do anything I want," he said, "I can't even cast the basic spells I need. I'm not allowed anywhere near society, need someone else to bring my food; even my mail is going to be monitored and checked."

"And rightly so!" she snapped.

"I saw an opportunity, I took it," he shrugged, "If that is such a problem, speak to the Ministry who organised it." With that, he took his cup of tea and left her in the kitchen. If she was going to pour out scorn and hatred, she could do that without him there. He had enough of it for himself without adding hers to the pile as well.

Heading to the library, he resolved to stay in there and begin fixing it until Granger had left. It seemed as if she resented the assignment as much as he did, maybe he would write a letter and get the Ministry to change it. He snorted. Unlikely; he'd be better off asking for a trip down Diagon Alley, alone and at night while dressed in his old robes… Wasn't going to happen! He took a sip of the hot tea and looked around the room. It was a damp ruin and he knew it. He also knew that this was going to take a lot more than the simple cleaning spell he had used on the rest of the house. Still, it would be a start. Pulling out his wand, he cast the incantation to get the surface dirt cleaned away. He then picked the mug back up and watched the best room in the house clean itself. In his mind, he could see how this place would be once it was finished. The books would be catalogued with a proper system, not the mish mash they had been under his father; there would be a seating area by the fire. He wanted the interior to be warm as well, more inviting than it had been. If he was going to be house bound, he wanted the house to be worth being stuck in!


	5. Chapter 5

Standing in the middle of the vast room, he had no idea where to begin. The floor was crumbling in places, the wood having had a bit of a run in with what appeared to be dry rot which was lending the room that rather odd smell. He just hoped that it hadn't gotten into too many of the books. Opening one of the pages of the cleaning manual, he flicked through, hoping to find something that might deal with the awful smell, if not the rot itself. He got the idea that was something he would have to look in another book for; if he remembered correctly, dry rot could be a rather nasty thing if left for too long – which this had been.

After a moment of looking, he found something that might do the trick. It took another half hour before he managed to cast it, but soon enough, the room began to clear of the awful smell. A quick flick of his wand had the windows open, which would also allow some fresh air into the room. The floor crunched a little as he crossed it. Looking down he saw that some bird or another had once called this place home as well. Well, that was the last thing he needed – some creature making a nest out of his books. He was just pondering what he was going to do next when there was a knock at the door. He jumped.

"Merlin!" he started. Granger walked in just as he was turning to face the door.

"I had no idea you were afraid of girls," she snorted as she entered the room.

"Careful, floor's not as stable as it once was," he said without thinking. The last thing he wanted was for her to fall through it and injure himself. The Ministry would likely think he had done it on purpose and send him back to prison. When she shot him a look that could only be described as withering, he thought she was going to just step anywhere, however her common sense seemed to win out and she trod carefully. He didn't fail to spot the look on her face she so quickly tried to hide either, a look of wonder and admiration. "It looked far better about twenty years ago," he said.

"Almost a shame to see it as it is," she muttered.

"I'm going to fix it," he said, "The whole house in fact but this room was always one of the best." He had no real idea why he was speaking to her. She clearly wasn't all that enthralled at the idea of being in the house and if he was brutally honest, he didn't want her here either.

"I had no idea you liked to read Mr Lestrange," she said, her back still to him.

"There's a lot about me you don't know," he replied before he could really think about what he was saying, "Most people see the reputation and leave it at that."

He was far more than the husband of Bellatrix and a Death Eater. He had been a decent duellist in his time and a practitioner of the Dark Arts. What people tended not to know was that he was an avid reader, had invented several spells, both lethal and non-lethal and had a good head for figures. He could not fly on a broom for shit though, which was something he kept to himself.

"It's deserved," she shrugged. He nodded, knowing the truth for what it was. It was going to take a whole lot of years to shed the reputation he had and he knew it! She looked as though she was warring with herself about something but he kept it to himself, she would speak when she was ready to. He did cough however, as the dust in the air caught in the back of his throat. It seemed to break whatever spell she was under and she turned to look at him once again. "I shall be back in a couple of days," she said simply. With that, she turned and disapparated.

There was a loud pop as she vanished from his view. A sigh of relief left him and he sagged against the wall, glad that she was gone. He was about to move back into the centre of the room when he heard an awful groaning sound. Shit! Looking on, nothing he could do to prevent it, he watched as the section of floor Granger had been stood in finally gave way. There was a hideous crash and a great plume of dust flooded into the air. Coughing, he swore, knowing that now it would take far longer to get the room fixed and looking good again!


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione returned to her office at the Ministry with a sigh. What had she done to deserve such a rotten assignment? She had been against the whole thing from the beginning. It was such a ludicrous idea, getting him to spill his secrets in the vain hope that it would give them new information on the location of fugitive death eaters. It stank of letting him off with nothing more than a slapped wrist and that was it. Alright, so he wasn't free to roam where he wanted to, nor was he able to see whomever he liked or even cast very much magic without it being monitored but she had her doubts. He was cunning and if there was a way around it, he was bound to find it.

How she had been lumbered with him was beyond her. She picked up a piece of paper from her desk and began screwing it up. "Was it that bad?" A familiar voice called from across the way and she looked up.

"I didn't want to go in the first place Harry," she scowled.

"Was he rude to you?"

"No," she said shaking her head.

"Did he threaten you?" Harry asked as he walked over to lean on her desk.

"No, not at all," she said. She scrunched the piece of paper up and threw it at the bin. She missed.

"Then I don't understand what the problem is." Harry said.

"You don't see the problem?" Hermione snorted. Harry stooped up and picked up the piece of paper, unfurling it again. "His wife tortured me, he just stood there and watched it happen! He said nothing! Now they expect me to just accept that he is free and I've got to help him," Hermione said, knowing her words were becoming heated but unable to stop herself. Harry remained silent on the matter, merely playing with the scrap of paper, which only infuriated her more, "It's just not on!" she snapped.

"I don't think there's any getting out of it," Harry said. She caught his green eyes with hers and sighed, she knew he'd never fully understand why she was so opposed to it; he would never wear a scar on his arm that had been carved into it with another's wand. He had never been the victim of such racial crimes; he was a pure blood after all! She didn't say anything, that was uncharitable and she knew it.

"I know, I'm just moaning," she said.

"You never know, something decent might come out of it, hear he had a decent library so at least you can read!" Harry said, trying to laugh.

"The whole place is coming down around his ears," Hermione said, "There was a library, I saw it this morning but it's in a terrible mess, I don't even know whether he can salvage it or not."

"I see you offered to help," Harry said before ditching the paper back into the bin where it belonged. She opened her mouth to protest at that but found words wouldn't leave her mouth. He hadn't asked her for any help and she doubted whether she was the sort of person he would want help from… which was all the more reason to do it.

"Do you think I should have done?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"That's up to you Hermione, only you will feel the guilt of letting all those books rot when you could have done something about it," he said. She flushed at that, aware of what he was doing put powerless to stop it. She let out a huff.

"Very well, as soon as I have had lunch, I'll go back and see if I can do anything," she muttered.

"Don't do it on my count," Harry said, "Do it because you want to." With that, his name was called from the other side of the office and he shrugged, "Duty calls," he said. Hermione let out a deep sigh and knew what Harry was saying. Knowing that there was a library in dire need of assistance and doing nothing about it was a crime in her mind. It didn't matter who it belonged to. She'd never be able to let the thought go until she did something about it. Yes, it would mean seeing him again but so long as he was mild mannered towards her, she thought she would be able to stomach it. After a hastily scoffed lunch, she informed Shacklebolt what she was doing, he just gave her a smile that made her wonder a few things. Making sure she had everything she needed, she let out a final sigh before apparating back to the Lestrange Manor.


	7. Chapter 7

He had just finished off a sloppily made sandwich when the familiar crack of apparition sounded through the house once again. Frowning, he stuck his head out of the kitchen door to see who it was. His frown deepened when Granger stood in the hallway, her expression matching his. Had she forgotten something? He had no idea why she would be back so soon, she had said it was going to be a couple of days after all. Maybe she felt guilty about the floor of the library and had come to offer to help clean it up. Chance would be a fine thing, she'd probably be there to categorize and remove any dangerous reading material she could find.

"Back so soon?" he asked stepping out from the kitchen. He flicked shoulder length brown hair from his eyes and headed over to where she was standing. Her brown eyes met his for a moment before flicking away; her frown did not let up.

"I came to offer help with cleaning the place up," she said brusquely. Something about her demeanour made him think that this had not been her idea but he wasn't about to throw the offer out just because she didn't want to do it.

"We'll begin in the library," he said leading her to it again. The look of shock on her face was clear and for a moment, he enjoyed her discomfort.

"What did you do?" she asked, her voice a little whisper.

"You did this," he said, "When you left, the pressure brought the floor down."

"How?" she asked.

"Dry rot in the wood." He pressed his lips together, thinking for a moment, "The whole floor will need to be replaced," he said, "No point reforming damaged wood." He let out a sigh, knowing that this would mean getting other people in to do the work for him, something he had wanted to avoid. Hermione had the decency to look horrified at the idea of what she had done and opened her mouth to speak. He help up a hand, "Only say the words if you truly mean them," he said, not wanting falsehoods nor pity filled apologies.

"I mean it, I am so sorry," she said.

"Good," he muttered, "I accept. Now, I'm going to need help finding someone to repair the floor, do you think you can do that?" he asked.

"I should think so, but all the contacts will be at the Ministry," she said.

He looked around again at the destroyed floor and nodded, "Then perhaps moving all the books out would be a good start, look up the contact tomorrow," he said. It was less of a question and more of a statement and he was glad when she pulled out her wand and nodded.

"Where shall we put them?" she asked.

"Drawing room," he said. He jerked his head and indicated for her to follow. He showed her where the books could be stored safely – the floor being stable in this part of the house and she nodded. Without another word, she spun on her heels and stalked back to the library, leaving him staring after her. He did not fail to notice how her hips swayed as she walked, but put it down to having been imprisoned for a long time and married to a woman he had hated.

Dismissing the thought entirely, he followed her back to the library and commenced helping move his books from one room to the next. It took hours. He had a lot of volumes to move and some of them were very fragile, due to age. A couple of them had perished completely and although he wrote the titles down, he knew that some of them he would never find again.

"Your library is extensive," Hermione said when they had finished. Her hair was a little dishevelled and she looked as though she could use a drink. He might not think all that much of her but he had been brought up well.

"I have a large collection," he said, summoning two glasses of water, "Though I fear damp may have destroyed some of it," he added. He handed her a glass, which she took with a nod and drained half of it.

"Thank you," she said when she was done. "Will you want help cataloguing it?" she asked. The excitement clearly showed on her face and he was loathe to say no.

"On one condition," he said. She indicated that she was listening, "Some of the texts your Ministry will consider dangerous and possibly illegal, you can help sort through so long as you leave those ones along, let me keep them, for reference purposes you understand," he said. He looked at the war going on inside her head, written on her face as it was and finally, she nodded.

"Alright," she said after a moment.

"Excellent!" he nodded in return, "Then we shall begin doing so when the floor has been fixed," he said. Hermione looked at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

"I have to go," she said, "I will be in touch tomorrow in regards to the floor," she added.

A small smile appeared on his face and he smirked, "Don't break the floor in this room when you leave," he said. She scowled at him before disapparating without another word. He shrugged, he didn't think it had been too bad a thing to say. With that, he headed to the kitchen in order to find something for dinner.


	8. Chapter 8

Dinner consisted of cold bean and burnt toast. He might have no cooking skills, but it still beat the crap they had been forced to eat at Azkaban. Besides, he was willing to learn and that was a start. Tomorrow, he would heat the beans for longer and the toast for less. He might even decide to try and cook something else; he was sure beans on toast would become boring very quickly. By the time he was done eating, he realised that the bedroom was still in the same dusty state that it was the night before. Not wanting to sleep in a dusty bed again, he climbed the stairs with the intention of giving the room a clean.

When he got there however, the call of the bed was too strong to resist. A quick flick of his wand had it less dusty and that would suffice for the moment. Letting out a sigh, he fell into the bed and was asleep in moments; the day had been harder than he had thought.

The next morning he awoke with the dawn. The sound of nearby birds welcoming the new day drifted through the smashed window and for the first time, he realised what it was to be free. Laying there, listening to the sounds of the creatures outside made him realise just how narrow an escape he had had this time. Letting out a content sigh, he stretched, glad for the warmth and soft mattress beneath him. Despite the dust, despite the less than lavish conditions, he was glad to just be there.

Somehow, the idea of getting up and seemed abhorrent. There were no dementors here demanding he be in a certain place at a certain time. There were no constraints about being somewhere to eat a thin gruel, no one to torment him or demand anything. Not even his wife was there to yell and cat call and annoy him either. Reaching up, he stretched out, deciding that getting up could wait for a while.

Someone else had different idea however as there was a loud knock on the door. Groaning, he knew who it would be and what she was after. Running a hand over his face, he pulled himself out of the warm pit he'd made and stood up in the far cooler air. Pulling on a pair of clean trousers, he grabbed a shirt and made his way down the stairs.

By the time he got there, Hermione had opened the door and found her way to the kitchen. "Make yourself at home," he said as he tugged his shirt down. Reaching for the kettle, he filled it and set it to boil before making coffee.

"I trust you slept well?" she asked. He nodded and gestured to the pile of mugs. When she nodded, he prepared one for her too.

"Better than I have for a long time," he said.

"I've found some details out about the flooring," she said. He nodded, aware that there was going to be no preamble with her this time, or any time.

"Tell me," he said before reaching for the boiling kettle. Morning had never been a time when he was overly hungry so food could wait until he could be bothered to learn to cook… later!

"I opted for magical companies to do it," she said.

"Good."

"I knew you'd not approve any muggle means so dismissed them. I narrowed it down to three companies. All of them are willing to work here and restore the floor as requested. I have quotes here," she said pulling out three pieces of paper. He poured the coffee and handed her one of the mugs, taking his black without sugar, as always. Picking up the quotes, he gave them all a look through. The first one was extortionate in price, although he wasn't short of money; he wasn't stupid with it either. The next seemed more reasonable and had offered to come and look at the room before stating a fixed price. The last gave a quote without another word.

"Not really much choice, I want these ones to come and see the room before anything else," he said handing her the quote again.

"That's what I thought," she said as she picked up the mug, "I wanted to give you the option of making your own mind up."

He nodded; feeling slightly patronised by her words but made no mention of it. Instead, he drank the coffee. "Contact them, bring them here as soon as you can," he said.

"Is there anything else I can assist with?" she asked.

"How much do you know about cleaning spells?" he said after a pause. She raised her eyebrow and he couldn't help but smile back. "This place is a tip and I've never learned them, can you help?" He half expected her to tell him to bugger off and go and learn them for himself. The pause stretched and he was about to say to her to forget the whole thing.

"Where shall we start?" she asked. The smile on her face matched his and he placed his empty mug to the side.

"The ground floor," he said. He then left the room, expecting her to follow behind him. Might as well make as much use of the time they had while she was there!


	9. Chapter 9

He managed to get a half smile out of her with his answer and he knew she would ask for something far more specific than he had said. Still, he returned her smile with a twitch of his lips and gave a shrug. "The whole place is in severe need of restoration, although I think the sitting room would be a good place to begin," he said.

"And modernising," Hermione said as they walked, "Some of these decorations are hideous!" she indicated one of the paintings on the wall and he was forced to agree with her. That one had been a favourite of his mothers, why, he could not fathom.

"Tell me about it," he nodded. "Some of these things are ghastly!" he added pulling a face. The décor however was something he could worry about when he had the walls back in a fit state. The sitting room was as dusty and grim as the rest of the house. The carpet was practically thread bare and the layer of dust that clung to everything had not been disturbed for many years. He was willing to bet that there were some spiders that would give Hagrid's acromantula a good run for its money too when size was concerned That was if the size of the webs in the corner were anything to go by at least.

Stepping into the room caused a plume of dust to explode under his foot. This time, he did not cough, however he did pull out his wand and aim it at the window, wanting to open it to let the dust out and the cool air in. The window had other thoughts on the matter however and refused to move. Crossing the room with care, he decided that perhaps physical strength would be better than magical. "Careful," Hermione warned as she entered the room and saw what he was up to.

He gave a nod before trying to yank the thing open. It didn't give an inch. It didn't even creak to let him know it was close to giving. Deciding then that there was no way he was going to be beaten by a damned window; he took a better stance and put his shoulder into it. "You're going to break it!" Hermione warned.

"It'll be fine," he replied. This time, he felt the thing move, there was a small noise too, giving him a little hope that this might actually work! "Just needs a bit of persuading," he added. He thought he saw her roll her eyes but his attention was with the stubborn window instead. This time, he placed his large hands on the wooden frame and heaved. There was a dull groan from the dusty wood before it shattered, sending the pane and most the frame tumbling to the ground on the other side. "Shit," he cursed.

There was a snort from Hermione and when he turned, she raised both eyebrows from where she leaned on the door jamb. "Don't say anything!" he said. The look on his face, he knew was a little sheepish and he felt every bit as silly as he should. She raised both her hands in supplication and shook her head.

"Can you repair it?" she asked. He nodded, the spell was simple enough.

"I'm going to leave it for the moment," he said, "This way, the dust has somewhere to go and it'll let in fresh air," he added, as though he had meant to do that the whole time. She shrugged and pulled out her wand, he hoped she wasn't going to fix it for him. He let out a small sigh when she began working on the floor. He then turned his attention to the other surfaces in the room. He knew the spell he had used on the kitchen would be a good start, however this room would need a complete redecoration if it was ever going to be considered decent again. There was paint peeling off the walls and the plaster on the ceiling had crumbled in a few places too. That would take some more complicated magic than that which could be found in the book he had used. An idea struck him then.

"Do you have access to spell books?" he asked. Hermione looked up for a moment and nodded.

"Yes, however I would be reluctant to lend any to you, so would the Ministry."

"Even ones on renovation?" he asked, indicating the ceiling. She caught his meaning instantly and a puzzled look crossed her face.

"I can ask," she said. That was about as much as he was going to get at the moment and he nodded.

"No harm in that," he said before returning his attention to what he could do, for now, it would have to do!


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of the morning was spent in a companionable silence that he had rarely experienced before. Certainly not with Bellatrix, being around her was like walking on eggshells. One lived with the constant idea that she was about to hex you, whether you had done something or not. This was far better and he found that he rather liked it. To be able to be in someone else's company without the constant need to fill the room with chatter was rather pleasant.

When the clock on the mantelpiece, which was still working by some miracle, struck twelve, he straightened and stretched his arms. His stomach growled at the chime of the clock and he looked around. "Lunch?" he asked.

Hermione looked over her shoulder and glanced at the clock. "I have to be back at the Ministry at one," she said, "But if you're going to make something, then sure," she said.

"It's not going to be complicated." He was a rotten cook and he knew it but sandwiches and coffee should be alright.

"Anything's fine," she said before resuming her work. He left her in the sitting room and returned to the kitchen. He located some bread and began slicing it, intending to make sandwiches for them both to share. A quick flick of his wand had the kettle on and the coffee made before he had chance to find something to put between the bread. There were a few bits of salad and some ham, which he used and before long, he had acceptable looking sandwiches on a couple of plates and some decent enough coffee too!

He entered the sitting room and placed the food on the table, which was now shining rather than covered in dust. He pulled up a couple of the chairs and gave his unlikely companion a call over. She raised her head and pushed off the floor to join him. She looked over the plates with an approving eye and nodded, "Looks good, thank you," she said before sitting down and picking up a sandwich. Thankfully, it did not disintegrate as she lifted it to her lips and he could supress a proud smile. His own was not so fortunate but it tasted alright none the less.

They ate in silence, again, companionable rather than awkward and again, he found that a pleasure. When he had finished his sandwich, he picked up the mug and wrapped his long fingers around it, taking a sip. "What do you actually do at the Ministry?" he asked, more curious than anything, "Besides babysit former Death Eaters," he added.

She looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. "I do a lot of thing there," she said. "Support for Auror's in a main one. A lot of administrative work too, for the Minister and his associates, proof reading, checking reports and making sure they're accurate." He nodded as she spoke, taking in what she was saying. "I also have to ensure they follow up on everything you have told them," she added.

"So, essentially, you're some sort of secretary," he said. He didn't mean it insultingly; clearly her role was important in some way however the way she said it, it made her sound like a desk clerk rather than anything else. She pressed her lips together, as though she was thinking about disputing that but eventually, she flicked a lock of hair from her forehead and gave a nod.

"There is a lot to my role," she said, "But, you're right to some extent," she added with a small sigh. He got the impression that there was a lot more she wanted but for some reason, was unable to achieve. He left it however, not knowing her well enough to question her further.

"I'm sure you're very good at it," he said instead. She smiled at that, seeming to catch on that he was paying her a small compliment.

"I do the best I can." He took a sip of his coffee then, unsure what else to ask her. She had already done so much for him in the short space of time that he was unable to dispute her in that respect. He was about to say something further when she rose from her seat and looked at the time. "Thinking of which, I have a meeting I need to get to," she said. He got up and nodded.

"Thank you for your help today," he said, meaning every word of it.

"You're welcome." She offered him a small smile and nodded, "I won't be back tomorrow as I have a lot of work to do at the office, however I shall be the day after, which is Friday." He felt a little disappointed when she mentioned she wouldn't be there the next day but he shoved the thought aside. It was rather disturbing and not one he wanted to dwell on.

"Very well," he said with a nod. She gave him a final smile before disapparating, leaving him in the Manor on his own once again.


	11. Chapter 11

The house felt a bit strange now that she was no longer in it. Odd… He brushed the thought off as a bit strange and turned his mind on getting the place fixed up again. It was going to take a long time and that was only the interior. He hadn't even thought about the outside of the building as yet, part of him dreaded even thinking about it. The next place he was going to work on was the bedroom. The idea of sleeping on a layer of dust again was revolting and so, after taking the plates into the kitchen and putting them in the sink, he headed upstairs.

Stripping the bed was a task in itself. Having never had to do such a task before, it took far longer than he thought. Pulling the tabs apart, he managed to yank the duvet out of the cover and dump it in a heap on the floor. When the rest of the bed was stripped, he picked up the pile of coverings and headed downstairs, hoping that there was a spell in the book that would set it all to washing itself. Ditching it on the floor, he opened the book that was rapidly becoming something akin to a holy book, he searched for the spell he wanted.

Merlin be thanked, there it was, on the third page in. He read through the spell a couple of times before even attempting to perform it. When he did, sparks flew from his wand, catching the sheets. Before he knew what was happening, they were burning! Thinking quickly, he cast another spell, extinguishing them, "Bollocks," he hissed as he looked at the smouldering remains of his bedsheet. Heaving out a sigh, he Vanished the entire lot and wondered where the 'clean' ones were. He was convinced they were stored in a cupboard somewhere on the top floor.

It took an hour and a half to both locate them, and bring the entire content of the cupboard downstairs. All of the sheets were dusty and in need of a decent clean. Heading outside, he decided to try the spell again. This time, there was no burst of flames, just a pile of neatly folded, clean sheets. The only thing left to do with them would be to actually get them on the bed. Thankfully, he didn't need a wand for that, just a bit of patience and some perseverance.

Maybe one day he would dare to try one of the spells in the book, that day was not today however and fifteen minutes later, he was back downstairs. Sleeping in a bed that had no dust on it was something he was greatly looking forward to. He was about to settle down with a fresh cup of coffee and a book when there was a thud on the window. Frowning, he got up and looked at the window itself. It was still in its frame well enough, so it wasn't the glass falling that had caused the noise. Opening the window, the culprit became apparent instantly. Lying there, confused on the lawn, was a battered looking snowy owl. There was a message attached to its foot and he sighed. It had been a while since he'd gotten a letter!

Leaning back, he let the bird pick itself up and flutter onto the windowsill before he removed the parchment. He had no idea who it could be writing to him, as far as he knew, everyone he had once considered a friend was either on the run, imprisoned or dead.

The moment he opened it however, the blood drained from his cheeks, leaving him pale. Reaching for a chair, he sank into it and began reading the contents of the hastily penned note. It was from the one person he hoped to never hear from again. Placing the letter down with a shaky hand, he knew there was only one thing he could do…


	12. Chapter 12

Crouch had been an insufferable bastard when he was younger, he had been an insufferable bastard to work with, an insufferable bastard all through their trial with his winging and moaning and even more insufferable in prison. Why he would suddenly decide that Rod was a good person to get in touch with now was beyond him. He ran a shaking hand over his face and began writing a letter to the Ministry. Part of him, a very small part, cringed at what he was doing. It would ensure that Crouch would be sent back to Azhaban with no prospect of release.

If he didn't do so, it would be him in that cell, not Crouch and that was not something he was willing to go through again, not now, not ever. Not for the likes of that whining fool anyway!

The letter he wrote to Hermione detailed everything Crouch had told him. What he intended to do and when he was going to do so. He just hoped that she would see it as an opportunity rather than a cause to punish him and get him away from her. He wasn't too sure if he could blame her if she did, though the thought was a tough one to swallow.

Hermione was at her desk when she received the letter from Rod. It wasn't expected. She even dropped her cup when she'd read through it and the message. So much so that Harry looked up from his desk and frowned, "What is it?" he asked. Hermione handed him the letter for him to see for himself.

"I knew it!" he said, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Knew what?" she asked.

"That using Rod in this way would bring the others to him!" he said. Hermione wasn't entirely sure she was comfortable with the word used but made no matter of it.

"You're not going to throw him back into prison afterwards are you?" she asked. Rod was performing a service for them and to do so would be cruel. Harry shook his head and she let out a sigh she was unaware that she had been holding.

"We're not monsters Hermione," he said.

"No, we catch those, what're we going to do about Crouch then?" she asked. Something told her that she wasn't going to like the plan overly much but there was very little she could do to prevent it from occurring. Harry's smile was wide, as though he had seen this inevitability happening already and that there was already something in place for it.

There was.

She didn't like it.

"Are you going to tell him?" she asked. She saw the moment of pause on Harry's face before he slowly shook his head. She huffed.

"Send him an acknowledgement of his letter and leave it at that. I want to see exactly how much he is willing to do to keep his freedom," Harry said. She knew she had to abide by what Harry said but this was not something that sat well with her. It felt like lying and she knew that Rod deserved better than that. Still, she put quill to parchment and sent the reply, saying that she would keep to her schedule and visit again in the morning when she was due to. As soon as she was done, she sent it, knowing he would be confused and perhaps a bit worried about the answer.

Hermione's reply was a bloody joke. Rod was more than a little tempted to screw the damned thing up and throw it into the fire. He didn't. It told him nothing about what he was supposed to do, how was he going to entertain Crouch when he knew the Ministry could send in goons at any time to pick him up? It was beyond a joke. He'd just have to do the best he could until then. What was he going to do if Crouch was still here in the morning? Hermione would show up and then the whole thing would be over. He shuddered. The sudden sharp bang on the front door had him jump and he shot to his feet. Pulling his shirt straight, he realised that the time for thinking about it was over, the time for doing was upon him!


	13. Chapter 13

Crouch was as insufferable as ever. He stood on the doorstep, covered from head to foot in what appeared to be mud. "What in the name of Merlin happened to you?" Rod said without preamble. The smell coming from the man hit him like a wall and it took all his willpower not to gag. His eyes were sunken and he was a shadow of who he once was. Rod supposed that he was pretty much the same when he had first been released from Azkaban.

"Dogs," Crouch said, his voice was broken, raw, as though it had not been used in a very long time.

"Dogs?" Rod asked.

"Yeah, dogs," he said. When he didn't elaborate further, Rod knew that line of enquiry was done with. "Say, you going to let me in or am I going to stand out here and freeze for a while longer?"

Rod snorted, "You can come in, the bathroom is through there, get clean and then we'll talk," he said. The idea of this man traipsing mud all over the newly cleaned house sent a shiver through him. He sighed at himself, the thought was truly domestic. Crouch nodded and Rod stepped aside, finally letting him in.

"Borrow some clothes?" he asked.

"Sure." He heard himself reply. With that, the other man stomped down the hallway without a care, leaving mud on the floor. The moment the bathroom door slammed shut, Rod headed upstairs to fetch some clean clothes. He did think about handing him his old prisoner's uniform but not even Crouch deserved that! Instead, he picked a dark shirt and some trousers he thought might fit him. Crouch was smaller framed than he was so that was less of an issue, if they were a bit big, it would be fine. Besides, if he moaned about it, he could always go back to wearing what he had arrived in…

After depositing the clothing just inside the bathroom door, he headed to the kitchen to make more coffee. He suspected Crouch would want to drink something far stronger but that was not his choice. There was talk to be had first. Talk that Crouch would not like.

When Crouch reappeared, Rod was already in the living room in his favourite chair sipping the coffee. "Sit," he said indicating the chair opposite him. He knew his tone was terse but there really was no hiding that.

"Coffee?" Crouch sneered, "Where's the real stuff?"

"You cannot stay here," Rod said flatly, ignoring his friend's demand for something stronger.

"What?" came the reply. "Why not?"

"You're aware of the terms of my release?" Rod said. The expression on his face showed he really had no clue. "None at all?" he frowned.

"You're under house arrest, can't go anywhere, can't do anything," Crouch said. Rod watched as he got to his feet and began looking around the living room. His agitation already getting on Rod's nerves. "Heard they took your wand away, that you're not able to cast anything at all," he added.

Rod raised his eyebrow, wondering where this was going.

"Way I see it, you can't cast anything, and you've no defences against me so you've no real choice." Crouch had by now found the cabinet which held all the booze in it and had opened it. He didn't bother to pour out a glass; instead he yanked the top off the bottle with his teeth, spat the cork onto the floor and took a long drink from it.

Rod ran a hand over his face and let out a soft sigh, "Is that how it is?" he asked, knowing when he was beat. Crouch nodded and raised the bottle to him, "Very well," he snorted before picking up his coffee and draining it. As far as he was concerned, Hermione couldn't get her soon enough, it was going to be a long night!


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione arrived at the allotted time that morning as was expected. Harry had brought a couple of others with him and they were now hiding out in the wooded area behind Rod's house. There was no sign of anything untoward going on and as such, she had been sent in a she usually would to see what had happened. She knocked on the door, hoping that everything was alright. The thought that he might have been in danger had made it difficult to sleep that night; the idea she might actually care for him disturbed her more. It took a while for him to open the door, longer than usual. What if something had happened? If he was harmed in any way, she was going to give Harry a piece of her mind!

The door opened and she let out a held breath, though he looked far from his usual self. There were shadows under his eyes, as there had been just after his release and he looked stooped, "Good Morning," he said, even his voice sounded tired. Hastily, she stepped into the foyer and shut the door behind her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, knowing her concern was showing in her voice. He nodded.

"You have to go," he hissed. His hand gripped her upper arm, his eyes were wide and she could see real emotion in them.

"Rod..?" her voice came out as a small whisper.

"He'll hurt you, both of us and I'd never forgive myse-" his words cut off as footsteps sounded on the floor behind them. Hermione looked passed the taller man's shoulder, straight into the face of Barty Crouch Jr. He hadn't changed one bit and she felt the old fear rising in her. She let out a squeak.

"Hello," he said, pleasant enough. Hermione knew better. Rod let go of her arm and turned to look at his guest, placing himself between them. "Rod, you do me a terrible injustice, I would never harm our guest here," he said, trying to step around him. Hermione gave Rod a gentle tap on the back of his shoulder, letting him know it would be alright. It seemed to work as he stopped bristling. "Come out Hermione, let's see how you've grown."

She did as he asked and stepped from behind Rod; the look he gave her had her skin crawling but she made no show of it. Crouch laughed, "No wonder Rod wants to keep you under lock and key, look at you."

"I hardly think that is the case," Hermione heard herself say, though she wasn't entirely convinced at that, he had been rather protective.

"Oh come on!" he said shaking his head. Rod just glared at him, "What was he about to say, finish the sentence Rod!" he demanded.

"No," he replied. Hermione wasn't sure but she thought she could detect the hint of redness on his cheeks. She could see the squaring of his jaw however and his eyes betrayed his boiling thoughts.

"Don't be like that!" Crouch pouted, "What's the harm…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing that this wasn't going to go on for that long. Harry would be here soon after all. "I don't need protecting either way," she said. It didn't do much to diffuse the situation and she could explain to Rod later that she was touched by the gesture. Crouch laughed and shook his head.

"I just want him to admit how he feels about you."

"Why is that important?" Hermione snapped, "It would just be something you'd laugh about anyway." She saw only amusement in Crouch's eyes and she shook her head, his expression proving her point.

"Well, if you're not going to play along, I see no f-"

"Crouch," Rod warned.

"What?" The other man snapped, "Not like you can do anything is it? She'll have you back in prison before you could finish the spell." Hermione shook her head. The fire in Rod's eyes hadn't died down. "Oh! Not quite the broken dog yet?" Crouch laughed. She cringed. "This is going to be fun." His wand was in his hand seconds later, aiming it at her.

"Merlin," Rod muttered shaking his head.

"Basement!" Crouch snapped. The amusement in his voice had died, leaving behind a cold edge that had her shiver. "Let's see how well tamed this dog actually is!" He reached behind Hermione and yanked her wand away before she could move again. She shot Crouch a withering look before her arm was grabbed and she was herded towards the basement.


	15. Chapter 15

If Crouch thought he was going to get away with this, he had better think again. Rod's fists curled at his sides as he watched, powerlessly as Crouch shoved Hermione down the stairs to the basement. This was one of the places he had not been since he had been back and it showed. Rubble lined the sides of the basement and the stench of damp hit his nose, making him cough. He resolved to get it filled in when this was all done with.

He heard the crunch of something and his head snapped up. Crouch had pushed Hermione over and she had landed awkwardly. He couldn't stop himself, he was beside her in moments, "Alright?" he asked.

"Fine," she nodded. Crouch was laughing.

"I knew it, you care for her!" he said.

"So?" Rod snapped, no longer wanting to hear his mocking tone, "Does it matter if I do?" He straightened up then and turned to face Crouch. He blinked at that, the irritating laugh subsiding for a moment. Rod opened his mouth to say something else when there was a bang upstairs. His eyes flicked upwards. He had no idea what that was. His eyes flicked to Hermione, who just shrugged.

"Who did you bring with you?" Crouch said, his question directed to Hermione.

"No one," she replied. Even Rod knew she was lying when she spoke. Crouch's movement were so swift, the action was done before he could stop him. A resounding crack echoed over the room and Hermione cried out. A trickle of blood flowed from a cut on her cheek but the fire in her eyes did not die.

"Don't lie to me." Rod had taken several steps towards his former comrade but came up short when Crouch aimed his wand at him instead. "Watch it big man," he sneered. Rod held up his hands in capitulation, keeping half an eye on his friend. The moment Crouch had taken his eyes off her, she had moved. Her foot snapped in a vicious kick that connected with his ankle. The slighter man yelped and brought one of the wands to her.

"You'll pay for that!" he shrieked. Rod was reminded sharply of his ex-wife; something about the tone sent a shiver down his spine.

"Not if I can help it," Rod mumbled. He might not be able to fight in the conventional wizarding way but he doubted the Ministry was going to do much to him if he beat Crouch with his fists! Pulling his fist back, he smirked, "Hey, Crouch," he said. Barty turned his head to look at him just as his fist connected with his nose. He pulled his fist away, shaking it – punching people hurt, he'd forgotten about that part!

Crouch staggered backwards, dropping one of the wands, blood pouring from his nose. Hermione grabbed the wand and got to her feet, looking alright for the most part. Her wand pointed at Crouch. He hadn't noticed. His hand came away from his nose bloody and his face twisted with rage. "Expelliarmus!" Hermione shouted. The wand in Crouch's hand flicked to the side. Rod bent down and picked it up. An odd tingling ran through his hand at the unfamiliar magic that flowed through this particular stick. He aimed it at Crouch, no intention of using it at all. Hermione advanced on Crouch, who glowered like a kicked dog.

"Hermione!" Rod shouted as Crouch lunged forward and grabbed her legs, knocking her to the floor once again. He was on her in seconds, grabbing and clawing at her. She kicked and kicked. There was nothing for it. Aiming the wand at Crouch, he cast the first spell that came to mind, "Petrificus Totalis." Crouch froze. At that moment, the aurors crashed through the door. His heart sank; he knew what was coming…


	16. Chapter 16

He knew what was coming. Dropping the wand, he raised both his hands in the air and pressed his lips together. His eyes flashed to Hermione, who scrambled to her feet, looking completely dishevelled. Crouch was frozen in place. "Hermione!" It was Harry who spoke first. He dashed into the room and over to his friend while Rod remained where he was. His hands were grabbed by the other auror and forced behind his back. He let out a grunt but made no other sound. He should have known better, they'd see him with a wand over the other two and assume the worst. He knew he would if it was him in that situation.

Harry helped his friend to her feet before turning to Rod, "What were you doing?" he demanded.

"It's alright Harry," Hermione said, dusting herself off. The basement really was a dusty place and she looked as though someone had thrown a bag of cement dust at her legs. The idea was mildly amusing, though he did manage to keep that from showing on his face.

"No it's not, he was-" Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. The third Auror approached Crouch's prone form and began securing it, not that he could do overly much with him in his current state.

"He was stunning Crouch, as you see there. Crouch was trying to kill me, I think," Hermione said.

"He was," Rod nodded. If they were going to discuss what had happened while he was there, he may as well speak his peace. "I have no doubt that he was reaching for a cruder weapon than a wand while he was doing so," he added. Though that might not be strictly true, he could remember Crouch carrying knives when they had raided together in the long distant past. "I couldn't stand and watch," he added.

Harry nodded, "The penalties are strict," he said.

"I know," he said. "I know what I faced but had I not acted and just watched, would I not face the same eventuality?" he asked. Either way, he would have been facing a return to prison, at least this way, the woman he cared for was safe and another enemy was dealt with. He lowered his head a little, not really wanting to go back to Azkaban.

"No," Hermione said. His head snapped up and he looked at her contorted expression, "That's not fair!" she said.

"Hermione, no isn't the time for this!"

"Oh shut up Harry!" she snapped. Rod smiled hearing the fire in his voice. "He's just cast a spell that saved my life and you want to send him back to prison? How does that make us any better than the likes of him," she said indicating Crouch. "I will not have him thrown into prison for making a good decision." There was a finality in her words that had Harry stop what he was about to say.

"There will be an enquiry," Harry said after a pause.

"I know, but he doesn't need to be in prison for that," Hermione said. The other two Aurors exchanged glances, the one behind Rod loosened his grip and he relaxed a little. "I'll even stay here and watch him while you look into it," she said. That surprised Rod; he'd not expected her to feel quite so strongly about the matter.

"Alright," Harry said. There was a small line developing between his eyebrows and he shook his head. "If you think that's a good course of action."

"I'll do her no harm," Rod said meaning it. Hermione smiled then, before Rod realised they'd have to spend some time repairing one of the other rooms, unless she wanted to sleep on the couch. The Auror's left then, carrying Crouch with him. Rod ran a hand over his face and let out a deep sigh, his feelings mixed. When they'd all left, he turned to Hermione, "Thank you," he said.

"You too," she said. Her smile was warmer than it had been before and he turned away from her, not wanting to see the red that he felt on his cheeks. It was only then that he began to question the wisdom of her staying at the Manor for an extended period of time.


	17. Chapter 17

Once the bedroom was fixed up for her to stay in, Hermione set about writing an account of everything that had happened. She had encouraged Rod to do the same and they now sat at the table in the kitchen, silently writing. Hermione knew deep down that this inquest was a sham, there was no need to question the outcome of it. Rod had cast that spell to prevent her from being harmed. What else was he supposed to do? Brawling would have been far worse for them and would have resulted in a much messier fight.

She stole furtive looks at the man sat opposite; wondering what was going on in his head. She wasn't one to go poking around in there but his silence since the event had her wondering whether he was I fact alright. Maybe sentencing one of his former companions was causing him pause. Then again, he had been more than willing to turn him in when he sent her that letter. Something else then? Hermione didn't like the way a tension line had appeared on his brow, his eyes seemed duller somehow, no longer the vivid blue he found so fascinating.

Wait… Fascinating… She rolled her eyes at the flutter that shot through her. Really? Of all the people? Him? She shook her head and laughed at herself. Yes, he was very attractive, she knew that. He had also just saved her from whatever his murdering former associate had in mind and that might have something to do with it. "What is it?" he asked, looking up when she laughed. Hermione shook her head.

"Nothing Rod," she said as she laid down her quill.

"Doesn't look like nothing," he replied, following her lead. She offered him a smile then and shook her head. She knew her cheeks coloured and she looked away, not sure if she wanted to hold that look or not. Before she could say anything else, he had moved and placed his hands on her shoulders. She should shrug out of it, she knew that but found herself reluctant to do so. His thumbs pressed into her shoulders and she sighed. "It's been a stressful day," he said, his voice far softer than it had been before.

"It has," she nodded. Her voice had a slight tremor to it that she couldn't shake.

"It won't happen again," he said. His deft fingers began working her shoulders and she knew she should shrug out of the touch but couldn't. She hoped he was right.

"Good," she said. She surrendered then, leaning into the invigorating touch that seemed to drain the tension from her, setting her mind at ease as well. There was nothing wrong with having a bit of a crush on the man who had helped her, saved her even. It wasn't like he felt anything in return and as long as he didn't know about it, it wouldn't become a problem. Her eyes began to grow heavy under his touch and she felt them beginning to drift shut. The next thing she thought she felt was the brush of his lips on the top of her head, a slight gesture that she couldn't be too sure of. His hands ceased their movement and her eyes opened. Had he kissed her or had she dreamed that? She had no idea. It was best not to react to it in case it hadn't happened.

Slowly, she stretched herself out and sighed. When she turned to face him, she smiled again, "Thank you," she said again when she had got to her feet. "I think I'm going to bed," she added, aware that she was now very tired and in need of some sleep.

"I'll see you in the morning," Rod replied. She nodded and turned to the stairs, stifling a yawn. The room was exactly how they had left it and she smiled again when she recalled how they'd worked together on it. Staying here was going to be alright, she knew, deep down, that everything was going to be fine!


	18. Chapter 18

He should not have kissed her head. He had no idea what he was even thinking when he made that gesture. Standing and rubbing her shoulders had been bad enough. She was a young woman, he was what, forty years her senior. How could he even think about her in that light? There was no way he was going to be able to do anything with her, it was just pure stupidity! No way would she ever want a dried up old convict like he was. It would be far better if he kept his distance and let it die.

The thoughts plagued him through the night, leaving him unable to sleep or rest. At dawn's first light, he rose and made a cup of coffee. Once he'd done, he then sent the parchment reports they'd both written off to the Ministry for their inquest. He looked out over the garden and realised it was as dishevelled as the rest of the house had been. He hated gardening and he sure as hell wasn't going to start out there today! It would have to be done some time however and he knew the Ministry weren't going to let him hire help.

He was lost in thought when a small hand brushed his arm. He jumped. Spinning around, he saw it was only Hermione there, yet his heart still thudded in his chest and his breathing was as rapid as ever. "Sorry Rod," she said. He shot her a smile; one that he knew was a little silly looking and shook his head.

"It's alright, I was miles away," he said. She returned that smile and for the briefest of moments, he felt a glimmer of something inside.

"What were you thinking?" she asked. Her hand was still resting on his arm and he fought the urge to put his arm around her shoulders. She'd likely hex him if he did that.

"The garden," he said nodding his head at the mess, "It used to be beautiful," he added. Her eyes followed his then, her expression changing as she took in the shambles.

"Not so much now," she said.

"I hate gardening."

"I'm not a fan either," she said. He looked at her then and she smiled back, "But, if you want help fixing it then I would do so," she added.

"Very tempting offer Hermione," he said, "You should be careful lest I take you up on it," he added.

"I've not said what I would want in return," she countered. He raised an eyebrow at that, getting the distinct impression that she was flirting with him. "Perhaps you are the one who should be careful." She gave his arm a little pat then. His mouth was suddenly very dry and he blinked a couple of times. He wasn't about to give that up however.

"I think that depends on what you want," he replied, "As you can see, I've not all that much to offer." The grip on his arm tensed a little. He smirked.

"You underestimate yourself," she said with a small shake of her head. He wasn't too sure what she meant by that, as far as he was concerned, there was very little he could offer anyone. His house was barely standing and he was unable to leave it. His past history was colourful to say the least and his future was bleak, what could he possibly offer anyone? "Don't overthink it," Hermione said. Once again, he turned to look at her. Their eyes met and this time, she did not look away. In fact, she was leaning a little closer. He could smell her breath, slightly minty, as she moved a fraction of an inch closer to him. Her eyes held his, slowly drifting towards a close as he too moved into her space. He shouldn't be doing this, no way should he even be considering what they were doing yet here he was, about to bump noses with the young witch. His chest hammered, time seemed to slow down; he could feel her warmth radiating from her flushed skin. Rod capitulated.

There was a knock on the door.

They both straightened and looked at one another wide eyed, "I'm so sorry," Hermione mumbled, a bright red on her cheeks as she looked away. Rod was more than a little tempted to hex whoever was at the door.

"It's alright," he managed to mumble before he scooted off to answer the door. When he did so, his harsh words died when he saw who it was.


End file.
